Jedi Business: nothing to worry about
by Jemmiah
Summary: Learning from his previous mistakes proves to be a painful experience for Anakin...


**Jedi Business**

**By Jemmiah**

* * *

"There's no use scowling at me like that." Obi-Wan shook his head bemusedly; ignoring the series of hurt frowns being aimed at him from across the table. "It was your idea to come here."

Anakin's brief moment of petulance gave way to disgusted resignation. "Don't remind me." He muttered recalcitrantly out the corner of his mouth. "All my savings…gone. Whoosh!" He made an open palmed gesture. "Up in smoke! I can just about cover the price of the meal, I guess."

Obi-Wan recognised Anakin's main concern was one of saving face. Certainly the bet had been foolish - and one which he should not have made if he wasn't prepared to suffer the consequences - but padawans were not generally known for their wealth. That Anakin had anything more on him than the price of a glass of water was frankly surprising, which suggested he'd been spending too much time lately gambling with the likes of Toms Yarrel rather than at the lessons he felt he no longer required. Now, as he studied Anakin's miserable expression, Obi-Wan appreciated that the young man felt the need to cover the debt of honour, yet knew he was struggling to come up with the necessary funds.

"If you are prepared to gamble then you should be prepared to lose." Obi-Wan chided affably. "Even _you!" _He watched as Anakin turned away, waiting for the inevitable lecture that usually followed every instance of disobedience or idiocy. "Padawan, I do not wish to nag at you. You made a mistake and now you are paying your penance. End of story. Now," he rubbed his hands together, "where's the sweet menu?"

Anakin's eyes became childishly round. "The sweet menu!" He yelped at his master. "I can't afford that! The price of the main course alone could put a person in hock for a decade! Not to mention the fact that you purposefully chose the most expensive item on the list!"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, every inch as relaxed as Anakin was stressed. The background music and the general hum of conversation washed over him, soothing and calming him. The food had been pricey, that much was true, but when one picked La Snootier as their chosen venue one got what one paid for.

In Anakin's case extreme indigestion brought about by major surgery on his wallet…

"Relax, Anakin." Obi-Wan sighed. "I will pay for the sweet course. And," he added with an unexpected flourish of generosity, "I will pay for the theatre. My treat."

Anakin's face was a picture. Embarrassment warred with guilt and delight, until finally he compromised and perfected an expression something akin to contrition.

"I'm sorry, master." Anakin admitted, his cheeks flushing. "I have to confess that I would be hard pressed to pay for all the meal. And I certainly couldn't afford the theatre…"

"That is why I have agreed to assist." Obi-Wan admitted, pleased that at least Anakin looked less likely to have an apoplectic fit when he saw the final bill. "That and the fact that I don't much fancy washing dishes in the kitchens to pay back what we owe: I did enough of that when I was Qui-Gon's padawan. Although I did enjoy watching you squirm for a while." He raised a glass of the house red in a salute to Anakin, then proceeded to drain the contents in more or less one go.

This time Anakin sat back in his chair, finally allowing himself to relax.

"Thank you." He smiled back almost bashfully. "Couldn't you have told me that before? So that I could have enjoyed what I was eating rather than feeling as if each mouthful was choking me?"

"Where would the fun have been in that?" Obi-Wan folded his arms.

Anakin's grin grew steadily larger. "Well, I will have the last laugh, master. Because if _you_ are buying the sweet course I am going to order the largest and most expensive selection of iced vanilla you have ever seen!" He beamed triumphantly at Obi-Wan. "I'll even have a king-sized wafer on the top!"

"I was counting on that." Kenobi nodded, enjoying the sensation of feeling pleasantly full. "You'll be stuffed to the eyeballs. That way you won't be running anywhere or coming up with even more foolish suggestions to fritter your credits away on!"

Anakin allowed his eyes to scan the décor of the fifth story room in which they were seated. Spread over ten floors of an elegant building situated in the heart of one of Coruscant's most desirable areas, La Snootier was a place in which the rich and sophisticated were often seen to dine. Old style chandeliers hung from the cream coloured plaster ceilings. Tiny running fountains gave the place an air of style and class. A huge, marble staircase dominated the entrance to the building with a welcoming velvet red carpet running its length. Droid waiters were very much in evidence, smartly and briskly attending to every need. It was…expensive. And not a place for Jedi, as a rule.

"So?" Anakin leaned his chin casually against the palm of his hand. "When were you last here? You said something about being here before?"

Obi-Wan's expression was one of reflection. "Oh, some years ago. With a good friend. She invited me out to celebrate a swoop race victory."

_"She?" _Anakin queried. "You said 'she'? As in _female_?"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan frowned momentarily, "I _do_ have female friends, you know. It isn't against the temple rules to speak to women. Contrary to popular belief Master Windu will not turn you to stone with a single glance if he sees you talking to someone of the opposite sex. And I'm not so repulsive that all women cross to the other side of the road to escape me."

"Evidently." Replied Anakin, beckoning over a droid waiter to place his order for the most horrendous sundae known to humankind, the dubiously named 'Avalanche of Pleasure'. "I remember that night at lady Eeo-Shaa's party…"

"You're not _still_ on about that." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

"It's hardly fair." Anakin raised his chin indignantly. "You traipse off with one of the most stunning females on the face of the planet and I end up with a frustrated old flumpalump trying to make eyes at me the whole evening! Where is the justice in that?"

"That is why I am a master and you are a padawan." Replied Obi-Wan smoothly.

"A master at landing me up to my neck in the schlent!" Anakin countered, although there was no animosity in his words. "She was all over me! If that Gabali player hadn't choked and died on one of her pastries then force knows what might have happened!" He leaned over and winked unashamedly at his master. "So, how 'bout you tell me what happened with you and that Corellian woman?"

Obi-Wan didn't so much as bat an eyelid.

"We went back to her place." He eventually confided.

"Yes?"

"Then she made some caf."

"_And?"_ Anakin's eyes shone eagerly.

"It got quite late and so she suggested - oh, look here comes dessert." Obi-Wan smiled triumphantly; bringing his padawan back down to the ground with a bump. Anakin, momentarily confused, groaned when he realised that Obi-Wan had been stringing him along once again with no intention of telling him what he had got up to that evening or with whom. Yet for all the hard lessons he'd learned that afternoon Anakin had not abandoned his determination: one day he would get Obi-Wan to tell him.

Even if he had to get him drunk in order to do so.

"Conveniently quick service around here." Anakin snorted, picking up the long handled sundae spoon and taking an experimental dip into the chocolate river that ran down the side of his iced-vanilla avalanche.

"It's going to have to be." Obi-Wan glanced back at his chrono. "We've only got half an hour to get to the theatre."

Anakin pulled a discouraged face and set about demolishing his sweet course with as much gusto as he could manage, given that he was already, as Obi-Wan had so quaintly put it, stuffed to the eyeballs. But if Obi-Wan was paying for dessert then Anakin was damn well going to get his money's worth! So thinking, the padawan began to frantically shovel away his melting desert with the sort of repetitive action one might associate with a mechanical digger. Aware of the looks that his apprentice was garnering from the society elite, and that neither Anakin nor himself were likely to be invited back any time soon, Obi-Wan dabbed politely at his mouth with a napkin.

"You'll end up with stomach cramp." Was his pessimistic take on affairs as Anakin scooped at the last of the dessert from his bowl then clattered the spoon down in victory. "Twenty minutes to get to the theatre. Unless you don't want to go, that is…"

"Are you joking, master?" Anakin stood up, causing the chair to squeal loudly against the marble floor. "If you are paying for the theatre I'm not going to miss it for all the galaxy!"

Obi-Wan placed his share of credits - and a substantial tip - on the tray of the attending droid waiter and stood patiently as Anakin scraped about in his wallet to find the necessary money to pay for his own share. The padawan sighed deeply as he handed over his stash of credits. Jedi didn't have possessions. They didn't have money either.

At least they didn't have it for long if Obi-Wan had anything to do with it…

"Nineteen minutes." Obi-Wan reminded Anakin unnecessarily.

Anakin grimaced…then smiled as a germ of an idea took seed in his mind.

"Why don't we take a short cut?" He smirked.

"A short cut…Anakin," Obi-Wan covered his eyes wearily with a hand, "have you learned nothing from today? I'm _not_ running anywhere! I refuse, utterly, totally and absolutely! The people in this restaurant already look as if they want to throw us out on our ear for spoiling their peace! Did you not notice the way the droid waiter looked at our credits? I thought for a moment he was going to bite down on one to see if it was real!"

Anakin was already loping towards the exit as fast as his engorged stomach would allow him, and so Obi-Wan had no choice but to follow on as best he could.

"Master," the padawan continued to speak over his shoulder as he jogged towards the stairs, "I'm just trying to get us there quicker that's all. You were the one who said they were the 'under ten' initiate's banister sliding champion." He indicated the smooth, polished surface that held the intricately sculpted rails in place, noticing that Obi-Wan had turned a few shades paler.

"Anakin, no." Obi-Wan replied quietly.

"This will be a dawdle!" The padawan patted the banister with his left hand, sliding it experimentally over the surface to see what kind of speed he could expect to reach. "So what if this is a fashionable restaurant? Who is going to stop a Jedi? Besides, they already think we are strange."

"And your great idea is to make them think we are even_ more _strange?" Obi-Wan exclaimed, aware of the odd looks they were garnering from the genteel, well-dressed patrons who were making their way across the red carpet from the lobby towards the seating area. "Anakin, _please_ listen to me…don't do this! If you never listen to another word I say in my life, for the love of the force _listen to me now!"_

But it was too late. Anakin was already perching on the banister like some naughty child of six or seven, swinging one leg over each side of the rail. He gave a small, satisfied whoop of joy - enough to scare several of the passing customers - and then pushed himself off on his quest to reach the ground floor as quickly as possible.

Of course Obi-Wan felt slightly guilty. Having introduced him to the secret pleasure of banister sliding he reasoned that he had to take some of the blame for his padawan's unruly behaviour. At times like this, when he most wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, he would simply use the _standard 'Jedi business: Nothing to be alarmed about'_ phrase. Now, aware that Anakin had left a trail of aghast upper-class Coruscanti restaurateurs in his wake, Obi-Wan resorted to the other phrase he had learned to cultivate over the last eight or nine years.

"He's nothing to do with me." He promised; pointing at the space that Anakin had vacated.

Obi-Wan sighed and looked down at his chrono for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Not that there was any point in running: something told him that they would not be attending the theatre that evening. All in all he'd gotten away with a reasonably inexpensive evening. Whether Anakin thought the same remained to be seen…

He walked slowly down the five floors towards the main lobby at ground level where he expected to find Anakin waiting for him.

He was not disappointed. The young man had his back to him and stood, bent over in the kind of suffering that might induce a mortal enemy to weep in sympathy, one hand clasped firmly over his groin area. Anakin's expression somehow managed to convey the very nature of the word 'agony', and it was not without sympathy that Obi-Wan made his way to his padawan's side.

"One day you will do as you are told." Obi-Wan winced as Anakin fought back tears of pain. "But for the moment let me give you a little advice."

He leaned in closer to his padawan and whispered:

"The secret of being a banister sliding champion is knowing not to pick a stairway that has a brass spike at the bottom."


End file.
